"Absolutely. Modelling has been an incredible journey, but my future lies in continuing the Carter legacy." Amelia's eyes glinted with ambition. "I intend to make sure that legacy is stronger than ever."
The applause was instantaneous, a wave of approval sweeping through the studio.
Claudia glanced at her notes and leaned in for the next question. "Amelia, your fans are also curious about your family. There's been some buzz about your younger sister. Can you tell us a little more about her?"
For the first time, something tightened in Amelia's gaze, a barely perceptible flicker. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by that impeccable composure. She gave a light, dismissive laugh.
"Oh, my sister? She's currently studying abroad," Amelia said, her voice breezy, almost careless. "She's always been more focused on academics than the limelight. We're proud of her, of course."
Claudia smiled, satisfied with the answer, and moved on to another question about upcoming campaigns. The conversation flowed effortlessly from there — brand endorsements, charity work, and the pressures of fame — but Amelia's mind remained stuck on the question of her sister, like a splinter she couldn't remove.
The camera's red light blinked, signalling a cosignallingbreak. Amelia's smile slipped as she relaxed into the chair, her fingers pressing tightly against her lap. Her eyes found the faint reflection of herself on a nearby monitor, but behind the gloss and perfection, something restless stirred. A shadow, faint yet persistent.
She'd always been careful to craft her story, to leave out the unwanted chapters, the inconvenient truths. Her sister belonged to that forgotten narrative — a reminder of things she'd buried long ago.
She's studying abroad. The lie settled in her chest, cold and heavy.
Amelia straightened as the countdown to live airtime resumed. The mask slid back into place, flawless and unyielding. She was Amelia Carter — a name that opened doors, a brand that sparkled.
And some doors were meant to stay closed.
The moment the stage lights dimmed and the camera crew signaled the end of the segment, Amelia Carter exhaled a long, steady breath. The applause faded behind her as she strode purposefully off the stage, her heels tapping out a sharp, rhythmic beat against the polished floor. The air was thick with the scent of hairspray, sweat, and the lingering heat of the lights.
Her assistant, Lila, was already there, waiting in the wings with the precision of a soldier. Without a word, she handed Amelia a silk robe to drape over her tailored dress and guided her swiftly to the back exit. The sleek, black tour bus was parked just outside, engine idling. A haven from the prying eyes and endless scrutiny.
"Watch your step," Lila murmured as Amelia climbed aboard. The door hissed shut behind them, sealing off the world.
Amelia collapsed onto one of the plush leather seats, the exhaustion she'd kept at bay creeping into her limbs. Lila set a chilled water bottle on the small table beside her before retreating to the back of the bus.
Across from Amelia, her manager, Victor Hale, adjusted his designer glasses and tapped his tablet screen. His expression was tight, professional — always calculating the next move.
"Great job out there," Victor said, his voice smooth, practiced. "You handled the Wilson name question perfectly. The board will be pleased."
Amelia uncapped the water bottle, taking a slow sip. "I always handle it perfectly, Victor."
He smiled faintly. "Of course you do. You're a Carter." He paused, scrolling through a list of upcoming engagements. "We need to talk about the gala next week. The press will be there, and they're going to want—"
"I know what they want," Amelia interrupted, her eyes cold. "I'll deliver."
Victor hesitated, his fingers drumming on the tablet. "You know," he said slowly, "these family angles play well in the media. If we could find a way to mention your sister—"
"Don't."
Her voice cut through the air like a knife, sharp and final. Victor's eyes flicked up, surprised by the sudden chill in her tone.
"Amelia, it's just a suggestion. Human interest stories resonate. It doesn't have to be anything too revealing, just a mention—"
"I said don't." Her knuckles were white as she gripped the water bottle, her jaw clenched so tightly it ached. "We're not discussing her. Ever."
The air in the bus grew thick, the silence pressing in on them. Victor studied her for a moment, something unreadable passing across his face. Finally, he gave a curt nod, the professionalism snapping back into place like a shield.
"Understood."
Amelia turned to the tinted window, watching the city blur past — a swirl of neon lights and shadows. The ache in her chest, the one she always buried beneath ambition and perfection, throbbed harder than usual.
Some things were better left unsaid. Some memories were safer locked away.
Victor went back to his tablet, the soft tap-tap of his fingers filling the silence. Amelia closed her eyes, drawing in a breath and letting it out slowly.
She was Amelia Carter. A name with weight, a legacy to uphold.
But sometimes, the past was a ghost that refused to be forgotten.